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Paul goes to church

May 16, 2010

A few days ago, a friend asked if Michael goes to a Baptist church.  He doesn’t but at the time, I couldn’t remember the type of church he likes.  I kept saying the Anglican church, hoping I would eventually remember the word, “Episcopal.”  It didn’t.  This past Sunday morning, Michael woke up and decided he wanted to go to church.  We looked a few up online and after he chose one, we went.

It’s only been a couple months since I was married.  I was married in a suit but there is no way that thing was going to fit me right now.  I was happy with my polo shirt and jeans and a lopsided haircut that needed a trimming until we pulled into the parking lot.  The few people I saw getting out of their cars and walking toward the church were dressed up.  Like, really dressed up.  Since the church was on the outskirts of a part of town with money, I should have known there would have been dressy people.  I commented on them and Michael told me that it wouldn’t matter.  “If anyone says anything about what I’m wearing, I’ll spit on the ground in front of them.”  He told me that I had better not.  I don’t think I would have done it.  I think.

When we walked inside the church, there were not as many people there as there were cars in the lots.  Michael told me that those people were at the Rock ‘n Roll service.  What??  Why couldn’t we go there?  It didn’t help that I had SNL’s “I’m on a Boat” going through my head (think “I’m in a church!” and you have the song).

Helpful hint: When you’re somewhere new and the parking lots are full, follow the traffic to find parking.

Scanning the room, there was one guy with a stylish Mohawk in a suit.  I thought he was gay until I saw the woman next to him, holding onto the crook of his arm.  Everyone else looked coupled off or really old.  I mentioned something about the gays and Michael reminded me that there are some Episcopalian churches who really like the gays and the others do not.  Alarmed, I asked, “Which one are we in?”  He didn’t know.  He forgot to look.  After the service, three gays came over to say hello.

At the end of the service, the organist’s postlude sounded like something from a horror movie.  A few people were startled by the sudden loudness.  Some looked shocked as they walked down the aisle out of church.  It really sounded like Freddy or Jason should have been there.  I loved it.  I could come back.

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One comment

  1. This is the “scary organ song.”

    “Transports de joie” by O. Messiaen



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